


14 Days of Dragon Age

by spoopybat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angry Hawke (Dragon Age), Angst, Blood and Injury, Broody Fenris (Dragon Age), Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age II Quest - A Bitter Pill, Dragon Age II Quest - All That Remains, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Freeform, Grey Wardens, Grief/Mourning, Holiday Writing Challenge, Hurt/Comfort, Leandra Hawke Dies, Love Letters, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Minor Character Death, Multi, One Shot, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Pre-Relationship, Romance, magical healing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22531504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoopybat/pseuds/spoopybat
Summary: I decided to take on the 14 Days of Dragon Age Lover's prompt that's going around tumblr. I fell in love with the games and comics so I thought I'd take a shot and write some fics about my favorite characters being in love (because they deserve to be happy)(and maybe not so happy sometimes)~currently on hiatus because of life~
Relationships: Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Tabris (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor/Sera, Female Lavellan/Sera, Fenris/Female Hawke, Fenris/Hawke (Dragon Age)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 14





	1. A Rose (Alistair x Tabris)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theme for day one was "roses" so how could I not write about my favorite Grey Warden?

Alistair watched the small elf as she sat by the fire, her large mabari by her side. Her white hair was turned orange by the bright flames. The warm aura that normally radiated off of her was now given a visual to match. The poor woman had been through so much in such a brief time. Her husband-to-be was killed, she watched helpless as hundreds of people were slaughtered, the guilt of abandoning Lothering. And yet, she welcomed everyone with a warm smile and an open heart.

"Karliah." He says, taking a seat beside her. She looks over at him with a bright smile that doesn't reach her eyes. 

"Came here for seconds?" Using a spoon she pokes around at her leftovers, pushing the mush from one side of the bowl to the other. "You're in luck, Muffin didn't want any." The large hound lifted his head slightly at the mention of his name.

"I've had more than enough, thank you." He holds up and hand to defend himself from his own terrible cooking. She laughs, it's quiet but it's definitely there. A silence falls between them as they watch as embers fly off the burning wood. He's trying to work up the courage to give his gift to her but to make it seem like it's not a big deal. It is, he wants to see a genuine smile that he knows she's capable of. "Do you know what this is?" He pulls a rose out from its hiding spot behind him, presenting it to her with a flourish.

She takes it from him and holds it her her pale hands. "You new weapon of choice?" She asks with a smirk, her dark eyes shifting from the flower to his face.

"Yes that's right. Watch as I thrash our enemies with the might of floral arrangements!" He made quick jabs with his empty hand. "Feel my thorns dark spawn! I shall overpower you with my rosy scent!" He delivered his lines with heroic tenor. Karliah brought the weapon to her face, smelling its sweet scent. "Or, you know, it could just be a rose. I know that's pretty dull in comparison." He offered.

A smile pulls at her full lips. "I don't know, sentiment can be a pretty potent weapon."

"Is it that easy to see right through me?" Something strange tightened its grip on his heart. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised." She was so perceptive. Maybe that was because that was the only way to survive in the Alienage. "I picked it in Lothering and I remember thinking, how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness." He says softly, stumbling over his words. How could he properly convey how beautiful she is? How could he promise to protect her from an unknown future? All he can do is helplessly fumble over his tied tongue. "I think the same thing when I look at you." He admits and her smile widens.

"Feeling a little _thorny_ are we?" She waggles her eyebrows. The elf tried to play casual but a fierce blush had crept up on her cheeks.

"What? That's- no." His face now matches the rose with how red it is.

"Relax Alistair." She thumbs the soft petals, bringing it closer to her chest. The thorns prick through her tunic but she doesn't care. "It's a lovely thought, thank you." Her eyes meet his and this time the smile does reach them. The fire light betrays her and he can only hope it doesn't do the same for him. In the background they can hear Leliana talking to an annoyed Morrigan, but that doesn't matter. All that matters is this moment with her.


	2. The Champion (Fenris x F!Hawke)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this may be a lose interpretation of "hand holding" but it still counts. Right?

Hawke is laying there on the floor, the dead Arishok not twenty feet away. The once cheering crowd had turned silent as they watched in horror, their new Champion motionless. He should've fought by her side. He shouldn't have let pride get the best of her. Aveline and Varric were herding the bystanders out. 

"Is there anything I can do?" Isabela asks. Fenris wants to crush her heart right then and there. Hawke was defending her. Hawke was bleeding out because of her. The fierce glare he shot at her was enough to turn her away.

Anders was on the other side of Hawke, starting to undo the sashes that kept her robes together. If he wasn't so crucial to Hawkes survival he wouldn't dare let the abomination touch her. "Tell me what to do." He demanded, voice tight. Hawke let out a string of random sounds in what must've been a sentence to her. 

"She talking, so that's good." He pulled down the top half of her tattered robes. The qunari's blade managed to cut through the muscles of her chest, just barely missing her neck. "We need to lift her up so her heart isn't below the wound." That being said it was difficult for her heart to be above the ugly gash when it was directly over it. Fenris moved himself so he was sitting behind Hawkes head. "Slowly." He warned. The abomination held her steady as they lifted her up enough to rest on his lap. 

"Evy. . . un. . . 'kay?" Hawke was bleeding out but she was more worried about others? Of course she was. Merrill was behind them, already digging through Hawkes supplies pulling out potion after potion. Fenris tore through the last few strands on cotton that held her destroyed breast band together.

"Everyone's fine Moira." That was the first time he'd used her first name since the night he abandoned her. When he fled like the coward he was. 

Anders placed his hands on either side of the wound, already starting to pour mana into her. The blue green glow from his hands spread out along her veins. Bit by bit the flesh started to reform but the blood kept flowing. Fenris watched, completely frozen in place. She was deathly pale and not improving. The magical light wavered slightly as sweat formed on his brow. "Lyrium." He demanded.

"Anders." Merrill began, handing off one of the blue potions. Fenris didn't like the sound of her voice. "That's the only one." The warriors blood ran cold. Of course they went through the entire supply battling their way to Hightown. The mage chugged the potion as quick as he could and returned to his healing. 

_Don't you dare die on me._ Fenris thought. He wracked his brain frantically trying to think of another solution. A hot ball of regret and anger burned in the pit of his stomach. Between him leaving and Leandra dying, Moira had become more reckless in battle. No longer caring about herself while on her desperate quest to save this wretched city. This was his fault. He should have fought alongside her. He should have stayed by her side. Fenris could see Anders' stream of magic dim again but he was nowhere close to done. He ran a metal hand through her blood soaked hair, looking down at the red ribbon he still wore. She was the one thing in this miserable world that brought him joy. Hawke's good hand twitched, reaching out for something to grab hold of. Fenris could still feel her hands on him. Her fingers running along the vines of lyrium as they explored one another. That's when it hit him.

Ripping off one of his gauntlets he held his hand out to the mage. The blonde looked up at him, unsure of what he was getting at. "They're lyrium." Fenris steeled himself, remembering what this process felt like. Anders nodded once and took hold of his wrist. 

A binding pain burned through his entire body, like his scars were being torn away. It had been years since anyone had done such a thing, he had forgotten how intense the pain was. In the back of his mind he could hear Danarius' voice and Hadriana's cruel laughter. This time may have been his own choice but it felt exactly the same. 

Hawke struggled against her healers hands, wanting to writhe in pain. Anders ripped more mana from his skin, silver scars flaring in response. He doubled over in pain, desperately trying to enough air into his lungs without screaming. "Fen." She whimpered, as if sensing his distress.

"It's okay Moira." He assured, resting his forehead on hers. It didn't matter how torturous this was. As long as she made it out alive.


	3. Target Practice (Sera x Lavellan)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theme for day three was "bow and arrow"

"Stop, stop, stop! Your doing it all wrong." Sera hopped down from her perch, strolling over to the confused redhead. "I thought you elves were supposed to be good with bows?" 

"We are, I mean, the others are." Aurielle lowered the bow, pointing it and the arrow towards the ground. Why was she so embarrassed? Firsts didn't need to learn how to shoot, that wasn't their job. Her clan had plenty of people who grew up knowing their one job was to hunt for food. An art that _they_ perfected. Not her. The Dalish woman looked down at her feet, ashamed of her lack of skill. "I never learned how. That's why I came to you." Aurielle wanted to contribute to physical chores, not just enchanting weapons or potion making. 

Using the smaller elf's shoulder as a platform Sera propped her head up on her fist, looking out at the hay bales they had set up for target practice. After a few moments of deliberation she stepped back, putting her hands on her hips. "Pick up your bow and show me again." Aurielle nodded, lifting the weapon back up. "Well, problem one is your feet."

"My feet?" Large blue eyes flicked between her tutor and her feet, clearly confused. 

"Yeah, they're touching. Put 'em further apart, like this." Sera scooted her feet out so they were shoulder width apart and Aurielle followed suit. "Arms out." Again she mimicked the action. "Elbow further in." Aurielle adjusted her hand hoping that was correct. 

"Better?" Frustration pulled at Sera's light eyebrows. Clearly that wasn't right.

"Not like that." Sera said with a groan. She stomped over to stand behind the other woman, manually adjusting her arms and hips. Aurielle felt her face heat up at the sudden contact. "Just a little more," tapping the back of the hand that held the grip ", there. Okay now draw the string back." Arching her back like a cat, she rest her chin on Lavellan's shoulder while helping her draw the arrow back. "Take a deep breath." The dalish elf followed her lead. Feeling Sera pressed against her sent Aurielle's heart racing. "Relax." It wasn't easy to listen to that instruction. Not with her hot breath tickling her neck. Not with the sweet smell of honey that radiated off of her. Sera's hand came to rest on hers, steadying her shaking hand. "Aim." Aurielle nodded, slapping the other woman with wine red curls. "Fire."

The arrow flew across the training grounds, landing a yard away from the target. "I, I missed?" The redhead deflated. 

"No one gets it on their first try." Sera laughed, patting her roughly on the shoulder before taking a step back. "How about this." She took a quick count of the remaining arrows before leaning forward to meet Aurielle at eye level. "You have ten shots left. If you make one of them," she held up a long finger. ", I'll buy you a drink." The genuine smile that played at Sera's full lips was enough to melt her heart. She nodded fiercely hoping her flying hair would hide her red face. 

"It's a deal." Delicate tattoos curled upwards with her grin. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments before Aurielle returned to the stance she was taught. Again and again she fired, all of them missing by mere feet. 

The shorter woman pulled the last arrow out of the quiver and took aim. Pulling her lip between her teeth she held her breath as she released the string. The arrow flew forward, landing in the edge of the bale. It was barely in there but it did hit its target. Dropping the bow Aurielle leapt up and down, overjoyed with her small victory.

"Alright, alright," Sera placed her hand on top of the woman's head, stopping her bouncing. Baby blue eyes peeked up at her through chaotic curls and Sera tried her best to keep a neutral expression. ", one drink. Anything after is on you."


	4. Relaxation (Alistair x Tabris)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some post-origins fluff for "napping together"

They were relaxing in one of Val Royeaux's many public gardens, Alistair's head resting on her lap. Both of them enjoying the warm summer breeze. Muffin is rolling around in the grass, exploring all the new scents. "You know, I didn't think I'd ever get a chance to do this." 

"Which part?" He asks, looking up at the elf. Bags still hung under her tired eyes, it seemed that they'd never go away, not completely. Her eyes met his as she runs a finger along the edge of his subtly pointed ear. 

"All of this." Karliah answers bluntly. She was supposed to live in Highever, married with children on the way. She was supposed to be content enough with Nelaros. Looking out over the verdant fields she takes a deep breath, thinking on the past months. "I like it though." She adds with a smile.

"Are you sure? I was hoping it'd be a little less Orlesian." He knows what she really means but where's the fun in that? Fingers comb through his thick hair as a sign of affection. 

"It's Val Royeaux love, the whole place would burn to the ground if they pulled their heads out of their asses." Children laugh as they chase her mabari through the well manicured grass. Compared to the dogs most Orlesians had he was a giant. Her smile falters as thoughts of the future gnaw at the back of her mind. She mourns the short future they have together, the people they've lost, the family they'll never have. Alistair can see the wheels turning in her mind and he'd like her to enjoy their well earned break. 

"Oh no. We're not having any of that." He announces with a stern look, rolling forward to sit upright. Without any effort he picked the small woman off the ground and placed her on his lap. Karliah giggles when he pulls her into a bearhug. The elf could easily take down a hoard of darkspawn on her own but he always made her feel so safe. "Could you relax for two seconds?" He gently reprimands. She leans her head against his shoulder. 

"How can I even begin to do so?" Her mind is a jumbled mess, every good thing is tainted by something bad. It was so easy to get lost in the past, to get sucked into a loop of regret and fear. 

"You could start by," Alistair stops to think, twirling a lock of white hair around his finger. ", listening to the birds."

"They're not pigeons are they?" She could hear Shale now, going on and on about the dirty rats. 

" _No_ they're most certainly not." Their songs were too sweet and calming. A large hand runs soothing circles on her back. "Close your eyes and breathe." Taking a deep breath she sinks further into his arms. "Can you smell the flowers?" For once the wind didn't smell of death or decay. Instead it smelled of roses and life. She nods slightly, still not opening her eyes. Now tired of the children's games the mabari returns and lays beside them with a heavy thud. 

"Good boy." Karliah yawns. Maybe she was more stressed than she thought. He shifts them slightly, now getting more comfortable against the tree. With her hound close by she feels even safer. Between the two of them she knew nothing could hurt her. Not even her mind.

Soon her breathing became even and deep. The way the sun illuminated her features made her look like the beautiful creature in Thedas, at least to him. A finger traces the outline of her high cheekbone, tucking some hair behind her pointed ear. Alistair yawns, her sleep was contagious. Then again, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. They could continue to rebuild the world later. They were safe and happy. Well protected too if Muffin had any say in the matter. Within moments he's joined her and for the first time in forever she was able to sleep peacefully. 


	5. Ma Vhenan (Sera x Lavellan)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post Trespasser content for "love letters"

She sits at a flat enough brick scribbling away at some parchment. Aurielle's pack is filled to the brim with letters that remain unsent. Words of love, the painful truth, crude drawings. They're all there but she cannot convey her emotions. Sometimes her anger breaks the quill. A rock is used to hold down the parchment due to her _limitations._ She wants this nightmare to be over. She wants to wake up in the Winter Palace and deal with the fate of the Inquisition. But no, she has to drag her way through eluvian after eluvian, to exhausted to deal with it all. It's a painfully slow hike back to the right mirror and frequent breaks are needed. It doesn't help that time moves differently here. It could have been a week or only a few hours. Writing things out helps Aurielle feel better, if only a little.

_Ma Vhenan,_

_I want to come home. I want to wrap my arm around you and never let go. This world is so cold but without you it's freezing. I feel like it's been an eternity since I've seen that beautiful smile of yours. I can't wait to hear your laugh again. My mind's eye cannot do you any justice._

_So much has happened since I saw you last. I hope things don't change between us, no matter how long we've been apart. A part of me is glad you stayed, you wouldn't have had very much fun. Too much magic and elfy druffalo shit. It's too much elfy shit for me and I'm the elfy-er one. Our friends need your jokes to brighten their spirits, Andraste knows they'll need it. Then again I would've loved to see you shoot that damned elf in his vile stupid face._

Aurielle's quill ripped through the parchment again. "Fenedhis!" She snaps. What does it matter? Sera will never get this, just like all the others. Dropping the quill she pulls a little scrap of yellow checkered fabric from her breast pocket.

"Ar lath ma, vhenan." She whispers holding the cloth close to her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the short chapter I had a tough time figuring out what to do for this one. I also have this headcanon that every piece of armor that's made for Sera has her yellow and black checkered fabric on it somewhere. Hence why her Inquisitor would keep a scrap of it with her.


	6. A Bitter Pill (Fenris x F!Hawke)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 was "fighting together". I know practically everyone has done some variation of this quest but I had this as a WIP for over a year and prompt gave me the push to finish it. I promise I'll do a happy FenHawke before this challenge is over 😅

Hadriana threw another bolt of lightning at her friends but Hawkes protective wards held strong. Hawke watched Isabela whirl around the legs of an undead soldier and sever the leathery muscles from its left leg. The air around her hummed with power as the blood mage wildly shot magic at everything around her. Each spell that hit the wards was weaker than the last. She was desperate and tired, but so were her friends. A loud grunt rang out from the left. Turning in surprise Hawke saw Varric bodyslam a corpse mere feet from her.

In the split second that she was distracted another undead goon appeared out of nowhere, running towards Fenris. Time slowed as a reanimated creature began to swing its rusted blade at the elf who's sole focus was Hadriana. With an animalistic shriek Hawke poured the last of her energy into her wards. The sword ricocheted off the translucent white shield. That hit was enough to drain the last of her energy and the ward shattered from the contact. Fenris didn't seem to notice. Just as the corpse went to stab the elf again Isabela reached around its neck and ripped through the corpses windpipe, letting it fall to the ground dead. He lifted his great sword and swung at the bitchs chest sending her toppling back onto the stone floor.

As soon as the battle began, it was over. Hadriana lay there, her face contorted to reflect the crippling pain of the death she so rightfully deserved. "We're done here." Fenris said coolly. 

Hawke shifted on her feet, watching as he began to leave. "Do you want to talk about it?" She offered quietly. Her honeyed eyes never looking away.

"No I don't want to talk about it!" He snapped, mimicking her speech pattern in anger. It only took a few steps for him to be in Moira's face, backing her into the wall. "For all I know this could be a trap. Danarius could've sent Hadriana here to tell me about my _sister._ " The word dripped with anger. "And even if he didn't; to find her would still be suicide. Danarius has to know about her and has to know that Hadriana knew." He was gesturing wildly as he ranted. Noone dared to make a sound. "But all that matters is I got to crush that bitches heart." He clenched his fist, tempted to punch the stone wall behind Hawke. "May she rot," he lowered his voice to a normal volume as he turned to leave. ", and all the other mages with her." The words felt like a punch to the gut but she knew it was just his anger talking. From behind Fenris she saw Isabela puff her chest up defensively. Moira's expression told her to relax.

"Maybe we should leave?" Hawke suggested, reaching out to rest her hand on his shoulder.

"Don't you dare _mage_." He shot her a glare from over his shoulder. The last thing he wanted was pity, to be another one of Hawkes charity cases. She wrapped her arms around her chest and mumbled an apology. The warrior took another few steps forward before turning to face her again. "You saw what was done here. There's always going to be some reason, some excuse why mages need to do this." He threw his hand up, pointing to the dead magistar that lay ten feet from them. "What does magic touch that it doesn't spoil?" Hawke looked like he had just run her through with a sword, her face just as twisted as the corpse. 

"Hey!" Varric barked, bringing Hawke back to reality. Anger and sadness began to bubble up inside her, neither of which she had the energy for. 

"It's fine Varric, just. . ." She let out a long sigh and he stormed off. After Bethany died Hawke never let anything get to her but hearing him address her with such vitriol, that was the first time in ages she wanted to cry.


	7. Words Unsaid (Fenris x F!Hawke)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got so far behind. I'll try to finish it but midterms are getting in the way. . .
> 
> Day sevens theme was "love birds". I decided to get the inspiration from actual lovebirds. They don't have to be outwardly affectionate towards one another but they form a strong bond with their partner and will stay by the others side. So I figure Hawke and Fenris act similarly for their 3 year hiatus.
> 
> Part of me wanted Hawke to make a joke about how some hawks mate for life, but creativity took this fic in the exact opposite direction.

He has never seen a mage fight with their own hands, no matter what Hawke always managed to break expectations. She kept her knees on the man's gut long after he was dead, long after Leandra was gone. Fist kept meeting the corpses face and she screamed and cried, breaking. Breaking his bones. Breaking her hands. Breaking the silence with angry sobs. Breaking Hawke. 

His face had caved in, the last of her punches made heavy, wet sounds, like she was squishing a melon. Aveline had to pry her off the dead man. She lashed out, screaming at Anders to do something for her mother, at Merrill to perform blood magic. There was nothing anyone could do. She held her mother, broken hands holding tight as they all waited for the guards to come. Hawke stared down at her mother's pale face, at the angry stitches that held her together. Her tears slowed. By the time the guards arrived she was silent, barely acknowledging what was happening around her. Eyes that were once warm and golden as the sun itself looked empty. 

Aveline held her upright as they walked her back to the empty estate. Isabela whispered comforting nothings in her ear, rubbing her back in reassuring circles, a false smile on her lips as she tried to distract her. Hawke did not respond to any of it. The two women had to drag her home. Whenever she came back to reality she'd take a few weak steps forward. Fenris trailed behind them holding Hawke's staff close to his chest, watching the city around them, glaring at anyone who dared to look their way. 

Anders worked on healing her broken fingers while Isabela managed to get her changed into something clean. Merrill gathered flowers to brighten up the house. Aveline explained what happened to Bodhan and Orana. The newly freed elf let out a small sob for the lost life before diving head first into cooking. They all had a way to help her. He set the hand carved staff down by the doorframe and made his way to the stairs. His hand gripped the bannister tightly. 

What right did he have to go up there? How could he enter her room after he fled? Each step was more imposing than the last. He ran from her like a coward, tail between his legs, and he didn't deserve to be next to her. She needed someone better than him, someone who was deserving of her affection. Someone who wasn't bitter at the world, who wasn't constantly being hunted, who wasn't afraid of happiness. Someone who knew who they were. Anyone other than him. That's why he left. The memories of her that night; the way her hair smelled, the tears that had threatened to fall, the red fabric she wrapped around his wrist as a promise. He stopped at the door to her room, hand hovering over the handle. He shouldn't be here.

A quiet sob stabbed him in the heart and all that fear and guilt left his body. Not when the woman he cared for was hurting. He entered but stayed towards the edge of the room. Hawke sat on her bed, her black hair shielding her from the world. She kept her knees tucked to her chest, resting her chin on them, bandaged hands holding her legs close. Her mabari, Pancake, looked up at him from his spot guarding the bed when he entered the room. "I don't know what to say," there's hesitation in his voice. ", but I am here." She didn't look up from the floor but she whimpered, wiping her eyes with the lower half of her sleeve.

After a long silence she shifted over a few inches clearing space for him. "Stay." Her throat barely let the word out. He did as she asked, sitting right beside her. She pressed her head into his shoulder, completely unfazed by the leather protrusions. Why didn't she kick him out? Scream at him to go away? After all the pain he caused her, all the pain she was currently in, why want him around? "They're all gone." He placed one of her small hands in his, being careful not to squeeze it. "All because of me." She clenched her hands into fists, wanting to break every bone again. Wanting for feel anything if just for a moment.

"It's not because of you." Fenris knew that the words would feel like simple platitudes. Normally her presence would be enough to light up a room. Her smile was a fire and the ambient magic she emitted was just as comforting. She made anywhere feel like home. But now he felt no magic, everything was ice cold and lifeless even with an actual fire burning in the harth. 

"I couldn't save Bethany," she winced at the memory of the ogre throwing her around like a doll. ", I wasn't fast enough in the Deep Roads." Hawke's muscles began to go slack as exhaustion began to take hold. 

"Carver is alive and well because you thought fast enough." He corrected, voice uncharacteristically gentle. 

"No they're gone, mother's dead and it's all my fault." She shook her head, absolutely determined to blame herself.

"There's nothing you could've done differently. I was there." He reminded her. "You took off the second you found out." Pancake snorted an agreement. 

"No." A few stray tears landed on the back of his hand. "Mother saw how I was around you." Each word was like a punch to the gut. "After a lesson one day she asked," her voice caught in her throat. ", she asked if I was happy." This was the closest either one of them had come to talking about whatever their relationship was. Hawke never pushed him to talk about it. Sure she had pretended like everything was normal as if that night never happened but he was not blind to the effect it had on her. "I told her," She paused as she tried to find the right words. ", I told her that she should try to find someone." Moira quickly covered her mouth to stop another sob from breaking forth.

"That's not-"

"You don't understand Fen," She still used that affectionate nickname. ", I told her to move on. I told her to find someone to. . ." The last word remained unsaid. Now was not the time to tell him how she still loved him. Not when she was a wreck. He didn't stop her when she curled up, using his lap as a pillow, breaking down completely. The mabari sat up now, gently licking her arm to comfort his owner. "I did this."

"You did not." Why could she so easily help him whenever he was in trouble? Hawke rushed to his aid when they first met, she didn't hesitate when it came to Hadriana, it never mattered how small the problem she always helped. And yet he had no idea how to help her now. This wasn't something he could kill. He ran his fingers through her hair. "You did everything in your power to prevent things. If you were truly the bad person you think you are, I would not have stayed around. But I am here and I will not leave." Even if he could only be her friend he wouldn't leave her alone, not again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is angst so easy to write for these two?


	8. Healing Hands (Fenris x F!Hawke)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some pre-relationship goodness for day eight (patching up). This was another WIP I'd been sitting on for a while so I'm glad I finished it.
> 
> Let's be real; Hawke is a thirsty bitch.

"Everyone alright?" Hawke called out her voice echoing through the forest as the last of the bandits fell to the ground dead.

"I'm more than okay." Isabela sang as she pried a coin purse out from under the corpse below her. The sheer joy in her voice reminded Hawke of a child on their birthday. "What about you dwarf?" 

"One of those pricks managed to scratch Bianca," He pet the stock of the crossbow a few times as if to soothe the weapon before he continued. ", otherwise I'm unharmed."

"Good." Golden eyes scanned the surroundings until she found the familiar shock of white hair poking out from behind a tree. "How about you Fenris?" Hawke called, her usual perky tone returning to her voice. 

"I have been better." He admitted with a grunt stepping into full view. Hawke tried to keep her expression calm but the amount of blood was rather alarming.

"You look like shit." Varric said halfheartedly. There were distinct cuts and tears to the leathers below his plate mail, and all of it was dark with blood. The more damage she noticed the harder it was to keep a straight face.

"Don't move." Hawke's voice was tight as she ran over towards the elf, rucksack in hand. She leaned forward slightly, face inches from his torso. "I can't tell what's your blood and what's theirs." She said worriedly. The mage examined his chest and arms carefully. He was standing so that was a good sign but without being able to fully examine him she couldn't be sure. 

"They're dead aren't they?" He shot back in a tired voice.

"Well, yes, but that's not going to do us much good if you die ten minutes later." With a sigh, she dropped to the ground and started digging through her emergency supplies and pulling out vial after vial. "Empty, empty, empty." She said, tossing each flask to the grass behind her. "This?" Hawke thought aloud as she uncorked a bottle of brownish liquid. One small sniff and her face contorted in disgust. "Definitely not that." Fenris only arched an eyebrow at the woman below him as she continued rummaging through the innumerable bottles. After a few minutes she stopped. "Okay I've got good news and bad news."

"Go on." 

"Good news, I found a potion, bad news, it's lyrium." She looked up at him with a small smile, half empty vial in hand. Healing magic was always a weak spot for her. She wasn't anywhere near Anders' level but at the very least she could keep him from bleeding out. Hawke returned the canvas pouch to her shoulder and stood up. "Better news, I think I can patch you up." The small woman grabbed his wrist and ushered him towards the setting sun. Every muscle in his body stiffened at the sudden contact. Within a moment he is back in Tevinter, no touch was ever kind there, none that he can remember. Anger and fear began to flare up in the pit of his stomach, eating away at him.

"What are you doing?" It didn't come out as a question, his voice was terse under the strain of keeping his anger in check.

"We passed a river before we got ambushed, it's only a few minutes away." Fenris stopped dead in his tracks unsatisfied with her answer. Hawke turned to look at him with a calm smile, his reaction not going unnoticed. She let her hand fall from his wrist. "I'm low on mana so I don't want to risk putting my focus in the wrong spot and doing a shit job."

"Well that. . ." He blinked a few times to clear his thoughts. This was Hawke. He reminded himself. This is Hawke and she's trying to help. "Alright." The elf conceded and took a few steps forward.

"Isabela, Varric, can you guys set up camp?" Hawke asked, acknowledging her other companions again.

"Of course sweetness." Isabela agreed, already halfway into collecting sticks for a fire. 

The river was no more than five minutes away but she kept her pace slow. Even if he didn't look like he was on the verge of death she didn't want to push it. The last thing she wanted was to kill him with a light jog.

"Alright sit." She pointed to a large rock on the riverbed. His movements were stiff and for a change he used his left hand to keep himself steady as he sat down. At least she knew where to start looking now. "I need to get this armor off you." The underlying question was obvious. He nodded and she got to work. Nimble fingers began loosening the straps of his armor until she could pry it off of him. "Can I uh, that is, can you remove your tunic?" She stumbled over her words and attempted to rebound with a joke. "I'd do it but I don't want you to get the wrong impression of me." 

"It's a little late for that." He scoffed, shooting her a look.

"You wound me." Hawke grabbed at her heart before turning her attention to her pack. She rummaged for a moment until she found a mostly clean rag resting at the bottom.

"You're such a packrat." 

"I prefer the term well prepared." She countered, walking over to the river and submerging the rag. Her jaw almost dropped when she turned back to look at him. She followed the vines of lyrium with her eyes, appreciating how they unfurled over his chest and down the taut muscles of his arms. Hawke's cheeks began to burn but she schooled her expression carefully, not wanting to gawk at the man. She averted her eyes within seconds. There was no doubt in her mind that staring at him would only make him uncomfortable, plenty of strangers did that already. "Nothing vital was hit." She tried to justify her behavior, quickly kneeling down beside him again. "Look at you, such a mess." She sounded so much like her mother at that moment. No matter how cautious or gentle she was the rough texture of the rag bit at his wounds. She traced the swirls along his ribs rubbing off blood that wasn't there. Maker what was wrong with her? She was drooling over him like it was the first time she had ever seen a man. Maybe it was, she thought about her past flings, they were boys. Boys that weren't nearly as beautiful as the man before her. She couldn't help but admire how the pale scars contrasted with Fenris' warm skin, how his green eyes always looked like emeralds.

 _Maker's balls focus_. She mentally snapped at herself, turning her attention back to his wounds. The few he had on his arms weren't bad, something bandages and time could fix, but the deep cut on his shoulder was what worried her. She gently touched the angry skin on either side of the still bleeding wound and she felt his muscles stiffen below her. "Sorry did that hurt?" The second the question left her mouth she felt like a fool. "Of course it does." A nervous laugh escaped her. She placed the rag on his good shoulder and picked up the half empty potion. She tilted her head back and swallowed in one gulp, her face scrunching at the taste. It didn't matter how many times she drank them, she still wasn't used to the taste.

"Is it that bad?" He asked with an arched eyebrow. 

"Yeah, kind of." There was a sudden wave of energy that radiated from her stomach. "It's bitter and tastes like metal and rocks." He nodded clearly interested, or at least good enough at faking interest. "The stuff is awful but weirdly good. Not delicious-good but it's like," She stopped for a moment, tapping her chin in thought. Mana wasn't exactly easy to describe. ", like a warm bowl of soup that wakes up every muscle in your body." He hummed in understanding. For years he'd seen magistars take lyrium to enhance their powers just because they could. It was a way to flaunt one's wealth and influence. Why worry about addiction when you're too busy ruining hundreds of lives? He clenched his left hand and watched as the silvery scars flexed. Over the years the smell became nausea inducing. "I'd recommend alcohol, warms you up just as much and tastes infinitely better." Fenris snorted a laugh and her heart fluttered a little. She circled around him and held her hands over the large gash. "You ready?" She chewed on her bottom lip as she waited, not wanting to touch him again without permission watching as he braced himself.

"As ready as I'll ever be." He said gruffly. With that she pressed her palms down on his shoulder, focusing all of her energy on two silver rings she wore. Magic bloomed beneath her hands and it flowed down the lyrium vines making them glow. Normally magic felt like molten iron but Hawke's mana poured through him like warm water. She could feel his skin tingle beneath her touch as the flesh began to knit back together.

"Does it hurt you? When they- or uh, you do that?" Hawke never put thought into how he did (as Isabela so nicely puts it) that fisting thing. On the battlefield his ability to control it seemed as finely tuned as his swordsmanship. 

Fenris didn't answer for a while, unable to admit that they hurt less around her. "Sometimes." It wasn't a complete lie. He felt another thrum of mana run through the lyrium scars as she poured more of her energy into him. "Not now though."

"I would hope not." There was another long silence. She couldn't resist looking down to admire how the growing shadows emphasized every ridge of muscle. There was an unmistakable urge to kiss his warm skin. How good it must feel to have those strong arms around her.

"How'd you learn to do this?" His gravelly voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Another rush of heat burned across her face and she was relieved he couldn't see her.

"My father taught Bethany and I how to control our magic when we were children. He used to run a little clinic in Lothering, free of charge of course. Mother didn't like the attention it brought us, but the chantry never did anything." A sad smile pulled at her lips. It caught her off guard, how quickly she could go from flustered to solemn. "Bethany was always much better at healing than I was." There was no way of knowing how many times she got in trouble for causing mischief. _How many times have I told you, use your gifts to help the community?_ She could hear her father's voice clear as day. "It seems only fitting that I was better at causing trouble. Who knew I was practicing for my career?" She teased hoping the rest of her emotions would get the hint and lighten up. Another laugh escaped the elf.

"What was she like?" Hawke took a deep breath to calm herself. Although Bethany had died over two years ago it still wasn't easy to talk about.

"She was always concerned about other people, helping anyone who asked, and those that didn't. She'd do anything to help those in need. Maybe that's why she worked in the clinic instead of fighting with Carver. She was so good at cheering people up. I swear if you came to her after just losing your family she'd have you laughing within the hour." It was a struggle to keep her tone steady but her voice cracked giving her away.

"The two of you have that in common." He admitted. Her smile could light up a room, her laughter was infectious. Maybe that's why she had so many people willing to follow her, willing to listen to her terrible jokes, happy to be around her. And he was no different. "Do you ever want to go back?" 

"To Ferelden?" She shook her head even if he couldn't see it. "No, there's nothing for me to go back to." Hawke lifted up her two index fingers to check the progress. "Almost done." She breathed, the lack of mana now tiring her. The last little bit of skin closed and she pulled back her hands. The wound was still pink but it was definitely closed. "Besides, Kirkwall is my home now. I couldn't leave you guys behind." She picked up the rag and circled around him, giving him one last look over.

"It must be nice, being able to build a life here. That's not something I can do. Not until I end Danarius." Hawke held out the washcloth and pointed to her cheekbone with the other hand.

"You could make Kirkwall your home you know." She said as Fenris took the rag and began scrubbing the wrong spot. "Here let me." Her fingers brushed against his when the rag changed hands again and another jolt of electricity ran through her. "You already have friends who care about you." Hawke lifted his chin with a finger, and she looked into his green eyes. There was a strange look in them, sure there was a sadness but something else burned there. Her eyes flicked down at his full lips and for the umpteenth time today she thought about what it would be like to kiss him. She leaned forward and began scrubbing the dried blood off his face. All she had to do was lean over another inch. Maybe he'd return her kiss? Hawke quickly broke their gaze, focusing on the last bit of blood that wasn't in his hair. "I'd recommend a bath when we return home, but for how I'd say you're good." She took a step back and offered him a hand up. His hesitation was much shorter this time and she pulled him off the rock with no issue. Despite all that muscle he was still lean and relatively light. 

"Thank you Hawke."

"Of course," She grinned before leaning over and tossing his tunic back to him. ", you're too pretty to die." Much to her relief it actually came out sounding like the joke she intended. Hawke continued picking up pieces of metal armor. When the last part was in her hands she turned to face him again. "I hope those two left us some rations." Fenris slung her bag over his good shoulder and kept pace behind her.

"I doubt it." He said dryly, making her giggle.

"If not then at the very least they'll owe us some drinks when we get home." Hawke looked over her shoulder, the smile still on her face. "They'll pay whether they want to or not." For a split second she thought she saw him smile and her heart skipped a beat. She was convinced that she must be imagining things. The idea that he could be interested in her, a mage of all things, was crazy. Right?


End file.
